The Domestics 1a: Tech Support
by scribblemyname
Summary: St. John Allerdyce had to be the most technically challenged person on the planet. Kyro
1. Tech Support

THE DOMESTICS STORY ARC

STORY SUMMARY: Domestic life with the X-Men.

DISCLAIMERS: All characters and organizations (with the exception of small, mostly unnamed minor characters) are the product of Marvel.

CANONICAL NOTES: This story arc accepts movieverse canon for _First Class_, X1, X2, and X3. XO (_Origins_) is ignored. Powers for major characters follow movieverse, with the exception of Remy LeBeau/Gambit who is based on comicverse.

LANGUAGE AND ACCENTS: Cajun French is courtesy of Heavenmetal (many thanks). I will attempt to reproduce accents in this story arc.

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><p><strong>Tech Support<strong>

**- 1.1 -**

**Story Summary:** St. John Allerdyce had to be the most technically challenged person on the planet.

**Canonical Notes:** Set sometime shortly following X1.

**Author's Note: **Written from a challenge by the **15_minute_fic** Livejournal community; partly inspired by **hazy_crazy**'s request for more Kitty/Pyro fanfic.

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><p><strong>Tech Support<strong>

**- 1 -**

"You're front-loading the queue," Kitty drawled blandly in St. John Allerdyce's direction.

She had taken over the IT requests board on Scott's behalf three weeks ago, and since that time, not only had she rescued Hank's computer from his negligent defragging ways and convinced Ororo that threatening any kind of electronic machinery with imminent electrical destruction was just. not. healthy., but she had also become burdened with the most technically-challenged individual on the face of the earth. He _had_ to be.

St. John flicked open his lighter and snapped it shut deliberately. He _knew_ she hated that sound. (One of the disadvantages to sitting in front of him in English class, besides wondering every second if flames would come crawling up her back, was that he knew every single thing that irritated her enough to break her focus.)

Kitty hid her growing frustration with a growing blandness she tried to cultivate when he was around. "May I remind you, St. John," she explained patiently in her best professional voice (the one she _knew_ he hated), "that all students must wait for their previous IT ticket to close before submitting another one?"

He shrugged and flicked his lighter again.

Kitty growled and proceeded to storm through her latest batch of triage. Four requests to salvage lost homework, two requests to add more memory on some of Hank's most overloaded chuggers, and _fourteen_ requests of various incarnations of charred electronic equipment on behalf of her worst and most terrible offender: St. John Allerdyce.

"Grinding's bad for your teeth," he threw out with a smirk.

Kitty glared at him, then turned back to her computer screen, intent on ignoring him.

It was the work of almost twenty minutes to sort through all the requests and prioritize them. Naturally, she saved St. John's for last. She was beginning to think he caused literal meltdown on purpose.

Then she opened the last request. She blinked. She sat straight back in her highly nonergonomic office chair. (Scott could _not_ be convinced to equip her little secretarial corner of his office with anything like comfort. Too expensive, he _claimed._) She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Well?"

She squealed, not having noticed St. John approach and lean over her desk. He clenched his lighter tightly in one hand but didn't open it.

Kitty looked back down at her computer screen.

Will you go out with me?

She opened her mouth, ready to lambast him for his lousy wooing techniques, for his irritating habits, for his overblown ego to give her no. good. reason. to give him a chance, but what came out was a shocking, surprising, and very, very scary, "Yes."


	2. Suitably Arrayed

A/N: Once again, blame **arliddian**, one of my most loyal LJ readers, who plunks in more meme requests than almost anybody else (except for maybe **whipsy**). More chapters on longer fics coming soon. Also, review replies!

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><p><strong>Suitably Arrayed<br>**

**- 2 -**

"I'm an idiot," Kitty announced to the empty room and the empty closet and the teetering piles of clothes flung across her bed.

What was she thinking, saying _yes_ to someone like St. John Allerdyce. Everything she had in her closet even close to appropriate for the place he was taking her (a favorite haunt of Mr. Summers and Ms. Grey—_you've got to be kidding me_, she'd thought when she heard that) screamed YES, when inside she wanted to curl up and say, no, no, no, no, no.

She settled for glaring at the clothes instead.

She could pull a Pyro and wear something wholly unsuited for the venue, like combat boots and fancy jeans, but goodness knew she wasn't like Pyro at all (and _why_ was she going on a date with him then?). She'd die of embarrassment at the fancy restaurant if she wasn't dressed for the occasion.

Another growl of frustration. She kicked _through_ an innocent black dress sandal. She had enough presence of mind to not damage her own possessions in frustration.

"That's it!" If Kitty needed clothes that said _no_, she knew where to find them. And with that realization, she stomped through her bedroom wall into the next room over, asked Rogue not to shriek, please, and raided her girlfriend's closet.

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><p>She'd made an impression, all right. Kitty blushed under John's open-mouthed stare. She'd dressed for the venue in an elegant black dress with elegant black boots, and elegant black opera gloves and managed to show off no more skin than her exposed neck under her elegant up-do and two strips of arm between the top of the glove and the bottom of her sleeves.<p>

Let him think she was blushing because he couldn't take his eyes off of her. (Wasn't this supposed to say _no_?) She had never imagined in her life that he could actually be suitably arrayed for a fancy date, let alone look that awesomely good.

She swept down the stairs, took his arm, and grinned up at him, composure regained. "Shall we?"

"Uh... Yeah." He still looked dazed, and she was starting to feel some rather suspicious tendrils of what seemed like satisfaction.


End file.
